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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130534">Barricaded</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/takawbelle/pseuds/takawbelle'>takawbelle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Betrayal, F/M, Zutara Month 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:47:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/takawbelle/pseuds/takawbelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You!” A now-standing Katara was stabbing a finger in front of his face.</p><p>Zuko gently took her hand and placed it on his chest. </p><p>“Me.” The sound, the syllable reverberated through his chest and his fucking existence. He could feel the warmth of his palm soak through to her own. He had no idea why she would rather chug through his father’s reserves of rice wine than talk to him, talk about them and this evasive dance they were going through. It was as if she were afraid that it would actually come to a precise moment of honesty so she strategized her drunkenness as a convenient escape.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Zutara Month 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Barricaded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>1. Zutara Month 2020 Day 4: Betrayal. Been sitting on this theme for God knows how long and still no spark of inspiration <em>until</em> I finished the last of my quarantine rum. (No, I can't buy more since they have a liquor ban and the price of bootleg liquor is fucking jacked up.) So I drunkenly wrote how high Zuko and drunk Katara might have interacted if their enlightened peers barricaded them in. <br/>2. ATLA is not mine, will never be. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuckers! Total, inbred fuckers!”</p><p>Katara lifted her already hoarse, straining voice at the last word then fell back on the floor, exhausted. </p><p>A cross-legged Zuko serenely offered her a tea cup.</p><p>“Fuck you,” she hissed but there were two Zukos and it was taxing her already depleted resources just to keep track of one.</p><p>He shrugged slowly – too slowly – and proceeded to take a dainty sip from his cup. Uncle’s finest tea in the most delicate bone china. Though, Zuko dazedly wondered, he had never tasted this fine, <em>fine</em> blend before. At the beginning he was at his wit’s end himself trying to deal with an irate and hopelessly drunk Katara. Trying to imitate his uncle, Zuko brewed a pot of tea for Katara and himself. She waved the first offered cup of tea so he just gulped it down partly out of thirst, and partly out of frustration for Katara being such a <em>girl</em>. (Uncle always said he needed refinement in the art of tea and romance.)</p><p>An hour after giving up trying to placate her, Zuko had the most wonderful transformation. Almost suddenly, the tea numbed his tongue and the colors surrounding him were both muted and explosive. Katara’s enthusiastic cursing sounded like mournful notes of the tsungi horn one minute, and ecstatic shouting the next. Unexplainable. Beautiful. It should alarm him but in a strange way it settles him.</p><p>“You!” A now-standing Katara was stabbing a finger in front of his face.</p><p>Zuko gently took her hand and placed it on his chest. </p><p>“Me.” The sound, the syllable reverberated through his chest and his fucking <em>existence</em>. He could feel the warmth of his palm soak through to her own. He had no idea why she would rather chug through his father’s reserves of rice wine than talk to him, talk about them and this evasive dance they were going through. It was as if she were afraid that it would actually come to a precise moment of honesty so she strategized her drunkenness as a convenient escape.</p><p>It miffed him how she treated being locked up with him as a punishment rather than an unexpected gift. </p><p>“You,” Katara tried again, but weaker, softer. It meant nothing and everything to him, that word and how she said it.</p><p>“Me,” he nodded sagely. </p><p>She wobbled and slowly dropped to her knees. He saw her before she dropped, the folding of her knees and the hunching of her back already dictated by the tea. He caught her and buried his face in her hair. Musk and ylang-ylang. A rational (but tiny) part of his brain whispered that he should already feel lustful but all he felt was a blooming warmth, like swimming in summer pools and curling up with candles in a rainstorm. He fell back and she fell with him. They stared at each other, Zuko red-eyed from the tea, Katara unfocused and groggy. </p><p>“I haven’t seen you drunk before,” he whispers, blinking owlishly.</p><p>“That’s because I never had any reason to drink,” she answers in an equally-hushed voice. </p><p>“Is it that bad, being locked here with me?” He sounded sad.</p><p>“They shouldn’t have done it, locking us here.” </p><p>“You’re not answering my question.”</p><p>She sagged further, suddenly a heavy weight of sustained pride and feelings felt and words unspoken. He gently wrapped his arms around her. His head felt heavy, and he seemed to be in two different places at once. Before he passed out, he barely heard her yawn, “No, it’s not so bad.”</p><div class="center">
  <p>________</p>
</div>When Sokka and the rest warily lifted the beams barricading the beach house the next morning, they found Katara and Zuko hunched over congee. <p>“Good morning, traitors,” she said without venom. Zuko was presently demolishing a bowl, choosing to hide his face.</p><p>Toph nudged her own bowl towards Katara, “The two of you needed to talk. We just gave you the reason to.” </p><p>There was absolute, tense silence when the rest settled into their breakfast until Sokka put down his half-finished bowl and gushed, “So? Did you talk?” </p><p>Katara’s stare could slash through Toph’s thickest wall of earth. </p><p>Zuko cleared his throat. “We did.”</p><p>“And?” the rest breathed impatiently.</p><p> “I forgot.”</p><p>Suki raised her eyebrows, “You’re kidding, right?”</p><p> Toph frowned, “No, Sparky’s telling the truth.”</p><p>All eyes turned on Katara, who shrugged and said, “I forgot too.”</p><p>Toph looked horrified. “She’s telling the truth too!”</p><p>“I did remember breaking out the rice wine,” frowned Katara. </p><p>“And brewing Uncle’s tea,” added Zuko.</p><p>“But that’s all,” they both said in unison. </p><p>Sokka slapped his palm to his forehead. He would have to think of a plan to get those two alone again. So much for doublecrossing his sister and the jerkbender.</p>
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